Over Again
by antoinetteevans
Summary: Rose Evans never expected to be sucked into the Harry Potter universe, but when she wakes up falling from the ceiling of the Great Hall, she realizes that not only has she been pulled into the world of magic, but into that of the Hogwarts students. Suddenly, her red hair and green eyes have a new meaning. Something strange is going on, and Rose Evans is right in the middle of it.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

The sky was so pretty above me. Midnight blue swirled with purple, and little white stars dotted the mix of colors. I wanted to relish in how beautiful the space above me was, but that was impossible.

It was impossible because I was currently falling.

Maybe this was the part where I was supposed to see cliche flashes of my life, but that did seem to be happening.

Air rushed past my airs as I dropped, making me unsure of whether I was screaming or not. I could feel my arms splayed out at my sides, trying to grasp for anything to hold on to, even though I knew it was completely futile. I tried to turn my body around, mostly my head, to see what I would be landing on.

Then, in the blink of an eye, my descent slowed. The sound of wind in my ears was gone in an instant, and suddenly I saw that I was not outside. The stars above me were not there because I was falling from the sky. As I was able to take in my surroundings, I saw that I was not in the open night air, but instead in some sort of grand hall, complete with candles and torches on the huge walls, and four long tables.

My back hit marble, and even though it was not nearly as hard as it would have been if I hadn't mysteriously slowed down a second ago, it was still painful. I winced.

I glanced around me again. There were four long tables, filled with people. I seemed to have landed in the middle of the room, between the middle two tables. Wait—were those floating candles?

I tried to sit up to get a better look, but could hardly move my fingers, let alone my whole torso. My back was aching, my shoulders were experiencing some sort of burning sensation.

"Don't move," a voice told me. My eyes had drifted shut, and I was unable to open them again, so I couldn't get a good look at the owner of the voice. It was a male voice, I could tell, and old.

"Oh my god," I heard someone exclaim. "Is that—?"

Everything went dark (well, it would have, if my eyes weren't already closed), and I lost consciousness.

—

I woke up to voices whispering around me. I could feel sheets or blankets around me, tucked under my arms and legs. A surprisingly cushy pillow rested under my head.

"It looks just like her," someone said quietly. "Do you think that it could be her?"

"Don't be silly," someone else said, slightly louder, "Lily Potter is dead!"

Lily Potter? Lily Potter like in the Harry Potter series?

"Shhh!" a third voice interrupted. "I think that she's waking up!"

My eyes flew open. I found myself looking up at four people. Two men and two women. One of the men sported a long, white beard, half-moon glasses, and curious eyes. The other man was dressed completely in black (everyone was wearing strange robes). His black hair matched his outfit, and his expression was guarded. The two other women both had gray hair, but while one was stout and plump and wearing a bonnet and apron, the other was tall and skinny and wore green robes and a tight bun.

"Where am I?" I groaned. My voice was crackly and dry. The stout, kind-looking woman handed me a glass of water. I quickly gulped it down.

"Do you not know where you are?" The tall women asked. She looked both confused and suspicious of me. I shook my head and looked around me.

I was laying in a white bed, which appeared to be lined up among other white beds, all empty. I turned around to find tall windows directly behind my bed. They overlooked expansive green grounds.

"Am I in some sort of fancy hospital?" I asked the four people.

The bearded man and tall woman exchanged a worried glance. The bearded man spoke up.

"What is your name?" He asked, looking right not my eyes.

There was something at the edge of my mind. A feeling that told me not to tell them.

"I don't know," I whispered.

"Oh dear," the plump woman said.

"Is it a memory spell, Albus?" The dark-clothed man asked. His voice was cold.

"I do not know," the bearded man answered.

"Severus," the tall woman said to the dark man, "get the veritaserum. We need to figure this out as soon as possible. She could be an imposter, sent by You-Know-Who."

"Is that really necessary?" The dark man, Severus, asked the woman. She gave him a look, and he turned with a flourish of his black robes and walked out of the hospital-like room.

"Where am I?" I asked for the second time.

"You are at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry," the old man, Albus, told me.

"Why am I here? What happened? Who are you?" I asked. I had a nagging suspicion, and I knew that I wasn't going to like the answer.

"Well, unfortunately we don't know why you are here or exactly what happened, but I am Professor McGonagall, and this is Professor Dumbledore," the tall woman said.

"And I'm Madam Pomfrey," the other woman said with a smile.

I didn't say a thing. The last thing I remembered was driving in my car, on my way home from school. Oh no! What if I'd gotten into a car crash and I was in a coma and this was all a dream? What if I was dead?

Just then, the other man returned to the room with a bottle of something clutched in one of his hands.

"This," Professor McGonagall said, "is Professor Snape."

"Hmm," I managed. He didn't respond. Well then.

"Here is the veritaserum," Professor Snape told Professor McGonagall and Professor Dumbledore. Madam Pomfrey tutted with disapproval and walked to a door labeled "Madam Pomfrey's Office." The door closed harshly behind her as she entered her office.

"I don't want veritaserum," I said. This was my dream. I didn't want to drink some made-up potion from the Harry Potter books. The three professors exchanged a look.

"You know what it is?" Dumbledore asked me with one raised eyebrow.

"No… I mean yes. I mean I don't know." What the hell was I even saying. I could hardly manage what I said on a regular day-to-day basis. Who knew what would happen if I was given a truth potion. "Why do you want to give me this… 'veritaserum?' "

"Oh, never mind that," Professor Dumbledore said, waving his hand as if to dismiss the importance of the question. "In fact, we can wait a little while to administer the serum. Minerva, would you please get a cup of tea for our dear girl here? She looks as if she could use a bit of… honey in the tea as well."

Minerva Mcgonagall nodded, and I felt offended that Dumbledore would assume that I was stupid enough to not understand what he was talking about. He wanted Mcgonagall to give the potion in the tea. The woman looked at him gravely before walking out of the room.

I turned to find Professor Snape looking at me with some sort of glint in his eyes. I couldn't tell what he was feeling, but it was probably something evil.

"So neither of you knows why I am here?" I asked. I found myself twisting the sheet on my lap nervously.

"You remember nothing?" Professor Snape asked coldly, giving me a calculated look. Had I done something to anger him or was he just mean?

"Yes."

"You remember something?" He asked. I sighed at his density

"No, I just agreed with the fact that I _didn't_ remember anything," I said.

"Just like her," Professor Dumbledore muttered. Professor Snape glared at him.

"Like who?" I asked. Lily Potter? I mean, I did have red hair and green eyes but I looked nothing like the Lily Potter in the movies.

"An old friend," Dumbledore said. "Ah, yes. The tea," he continued as McGonagall handed him a small cup of pink tea. I looked at it suspiciously. Something in my told me not to drink it. I didn't want to drink the veritaserum if McGonagall had slipped it into the cup. Dumbledore offered me the tea, but I shook my head.

"I'm not thirsty."

"No, really, I insist. You must be cold, and some tea will do you good."

"No, thank you," I declined, more strongly this time.

"Drink the tea," Snape snapped harshly. I glared at him and was hit by an urge to throw the cup at him and tell _him_ to drink it.

"Fine!" I grabbed the tea and pretended to take a sip. "Happy?"

I slammed the saucer down on the bedside table next to me.

"Even though that was a fake sip, I think it was enough, Headmaster," Snape said stonily. Dumbledore looked at him for a second before nodding. Shit. They knew.

"What is your name?" Snape asked me. Words fought their way up to my throat but I shook my head. I'd always told myself as I was reading the books that I would never succumb to the truth serum, but it was so difficult in real life… or in a dream or whatever this was. Was this my subconscious' way of telling me that I was powerless?

"Rose," I spit out. "Rose Evans." Eyebrows rose on all three of them.

"Evans? Are you completely sure about that?" McGonagall asked. _Yes, professor, I'm quite sure because I'm under the control of a FREAKING TRUTH POTION!_ I tried to convey those emotions through a glare, then realized that I'd said that aloud. Shit part two. Stupid truth potion.

"So you do know what veritaserum is?" McGongall asked.

"Yep," I said grumpily.

"Where are you from?" Dumbledore asked.

"London," I said shortly.

"What are you doing here?"

"I don't know. You tell me."

"What do you think you are doing here?"

I sighed "I'm probably in a coma somewhere, and this is probably a dream."

"Why do you think that?" Snape joined in the questioning. I glared at him.

"Because I hurt everywhere. Maybe I got into a car crash." Part of the truth. Mostly.

"No. I'm assuming that's because you fell from the ceiling of the Great Hall," Snape said. I was about to tell him to go fall off of a cliff, but I was interrupted by a splitting headache and some on-the-side nausea. At least, it seemed like it was on the side until I started to dry heave the nothingness that was in my stomach.

Madam Pomfrey came out of her office as if she could sense somebody's sickness. She shooed the two teachers and the headmaster away from my bead.

"I knew it!" She said. "Veritaserum is not good for somebody who has just been injured. Out! You can question her later!" And with that, my head fell back on a pillow and my eyes closed.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I don't own any of this. It belongs to J.K. Rowling

Chapter 2

I had strange dreams.

They were darkly vivid dreams, of a hooded man in black with a scythe and a glass of bourbon. _A girl stood at his side, with hair the color of fire and freckles over her nose. She wore a black dress down to the floor, but I could see her pale toes peeking out from the fabric. She looked sad._

 _We stood in a room of ten doors, each with a different knob. The two figures faced me, in the center of the room. The floor was marble, reflecting the ten doors. Behind one door, the color of onyx, I could see green light flickering. It escaped through the cracks around the door, lighting up the room around me._

 _"Don't let him catch you," the girl whispered. A tear rolled down her cheek. "Don't let him catch you. He caught the last one."_

That was when I woke up in the same white, sunny room as before. This time, there was no one to greet me but an unconscious boy to my left and a mouse scurrying across the floor.

My throat was dry and felt as if someone had decided it needed a sandpaper massage, but I didn't want to touch the tall glass of water on my bedside table for fear that it was a potion. I considered going to sleep again, but I didn't want to see the scythe-man again, so I instead settled for looking out of the large windows. I probably should've felt some sort of emotion right now. I mean, this was either some huge prank, I was dying/in a coma/asleep, or I was actually in the Harry Potter world. Choice number two seemed the most likely. Did that mean that I had just had a dream inside of a dream? Anyway, I could either act like the characters were actually the characters or I could try to call them out for pranking me. They probably already thought I was crazy anyway.

After a few minutes of unsuccessful attempts at decision-making, I gave up and came to the conclusion that even if I made a decision now, I probably wouldn't stick with it when it came time for me to act a certain way. I was fickle like that.

I glanced down and absentmindedly flecked a piece of lint off of the bed. Thankfully, I was in the clothes that I last remembered wearing: a pleated skirt, mock turtleneck, and sheer black tights. I was glad that some random wizard hadn't magicked me into new clothes. My stomach rumbled and I realized just how hungry I was. How long had I been asleep? It felt like a while, but it couldn't have been too long, right?

Experimentally, I stood up on unsteady feet and walked forward a couple of paces. The floor was warm where the sun had touched it, and my tight-covered feet looked strange against the antique tiles. I looked for my shoes, platform oxfords, around me and found them slightly under the bed. I slipped them on and cautiously walked towards Madam Pomfrey's door. There was no movement behind the frosted glass on the door, and I was secretly hoping that she wasn't in her office so that I would have an excuse not to talk to anyone for a while. I knocked on the wooden part of the door and bit my lip when it opened. Madam Pomfrey saw me standing and tutted disapprovingly.

"You shouldn't be up, dear. You went through quite the fall. And to think that Professor Dumbledore allowed you to be questioned with Veritaserum!" She _Hmph_ 'd and started to guide me back to the bed. I didn't really feel like going back in that bed, in part because of my monstrously hungry stomach and because if I lay down again, I would most likely be haunted by the same nightmares as before.

"I'm hungry," I said bluntly. Normally, I would have added an "if you don't mind" or "not to bother you," but this situation wasn't normal and I was pissed at the professors' behavior earlier and I was still convinced this was a dream (the nightmare must have been a dream inside of a dream!) so what did a little bit of rudeness matter?

"Of course you are, dear. Take a seat on your bed and I'll fetch you a meal," the nurse-figure said.

"How long was I asleep?" I asked curiously.

"Five days. I had to give you a potion to keep you from getting too hungry, but that was three days ago."

What. The. Hell. Five days? That was a long time to be asleep or unconscious or whatever the heck I had been. Startled, I tripped over the edge of a tile and went sprawling on the floor. Wincing, I rubbed my back. More painful was the realization that this could possibly, maybe not be a big dream. If I could feel pain here…

"Be careful," Madam Pomfrey warned me, helping me to my feet. She shot a disapproving look at my shoes but I ignored it and took a seat at the edge of the mattress. She turned and disappeared out of what I presumed was the exit to the hospital wing, probably to get food. I took this chance to better soak in my surroundings. It was truly like I was in one of the Harry Potter books. The ceiling was high and filled with beautiful stone carvings. The windows were large, and filtered light into the room. When I looked out of them, part of me was hoping to see quidditch players zooming around above the grass, but I had no such luck.

The sleeping boy in the bed next to mine was a redhead… no. It couldn't be. Shit. I almost yelled "Ron," but I held myself back. It could be another redheaded, freckled, tall, gangly Harry Potter character. I wondered if he would freak out if I woke him up by putting a spider on his face. Probably.

Madam Pomfrey returned with a tray of food and I looked at it hungrily. She set the chicken, asparagus, mashed potatoes, carrots, pudding, and water on the bed and I eyed it. She handed me a fork and a napkin and I thanked her. She smiled and nodded and returned to her office as I dug in. I was a vegetarian, so I didn't bother with the chicken but the vegetables and pudding were delicious. I'm not proud to admit it, but I devoured that food like I hadn't, well, like I hadn't eaten in five days. This food was great. I probably should have been more suspicious of it because of my last experience with Hogwarts-provided drink, but I was too hungry.

When I finally came up for air, I found the redhead suspected-Ronald-Weasley staring at me with raised eyebrows.

I swallowed before saying, "Hi."

"Hi," he said. His eyebrows didn't lower.

"What?" I asked. "Is there something wrong with eating?"

I thought I heard something from him like, "Now I understand what Hermione means about my eating," but it was mumbled so I couldn't be sure." More loudly, he asked, "Who are you?"

I set the empty tray down next to me on the bed and scooted closer to the middle of the bed. The redhead's eyes flickered over presumably strange outfit.

"I could ask you the same thing," I said.

"Ron Weasley," the boy said. I'd been right. I wanted to jump up and down, because I was a fan of the Golden Trio, but I resisted.

"Rose Evans," I said. "What're you in here for?"

"Poisoned," He said casually. I _hmm'_ d, nonchalantly. I was still processing his identity, and I already knew the events in the book. Malfoy must have tried to kill Dumbledore again. "You?"

"I fell from the ceiling. Were you there?" I asked.

"Sorry, no," he said. I mentally sighed. I'd been hoping that someone could tell me what had happened. I honestly had no recollection, besides a few voices and a pretty sky, and I wanted to know how I had fallen from the ceiling. "Wait, what? You fell from the ceiling? And why are you dressed so strangely?" He asked, ever-so-sensitively. I glanced down at my outfit.

"I don't know. I like these clothes," I said, stating the obvious and rolling my eyes. Ron narrowed his eyes.

"Wait a minute. What house are you in?" He asked me. I shrugged.

"Dunno. I don't even know if I'm a witch." Which I probably wasn't. Sadly.

"I didn't know Dumbledore allowed muggles in Hogwarts," Ron said.

The hospital wing door opened and three figures entered the room. Two were girls and one was a boy. My eyes widened when I recognized Harry Potter. He was tall, skinny, and pale. His hair was black, and half-covered the lightning-bolt-shaped scar on his forehead, slightly to the side. His robes, dark like the girls', was pinned with a red and gold lion. One girl appeared to be Hermione Granger, identifiable by her frizzy, curly brown hair and brown, almost amber, eyes. She was shorter than I had pictured in the past, but she was pretty. Freckles dotted her cheeks and nose and she was glaring at the other girl. The second girl looked to be Lavender Brown. Straight teeth in a half-smile, half-grimace in happiness that Ron was awake but worry about his condition, brownish blonde hair pulled back into two braids, and a pale purple sweater covered by dark robes.

"Ronald. You're awake!" Lavender Brown said, rushing to his side. I raised an eyebrow at the lack of a nickname, then remembered how he had said Hermione's name in his sleep in the book.

"Hi, Lavender," he said. He sat up a little bit straighter, wincing a little bit.

"You had us worried, Ron," Harry said, standing across from Lavender, on Ron's other side, closer to me.

"You're just lucky Harry was there with the bezoar," Hermione said from the foot of Ron's bed. Lavender glared at her.

I could resist cutting in, "You swallowed a stone that was in a goat's stomach." How gross. Not that it was worse than being dead, but still. Gross.

The three visitors turned to look at me. Harry's eyes widened and he just stared at me.

"And you are?" Hermione asked.

"Rose Evans," I said.

"Hermione Granger," Hermione said, "and this is Harry Potter and Lavender Brown. I suppose you've met Ron. Wait, did you say Evans?"

Before Hermione could continue, I said, "Pleasure to meet you all."

"Were you the one who fell from the Great Hall ceiling?" Lavender asked, looking at my face and tilting her head, like she was trying to discern whether I was indeed that girl.

"Yeah," I answered. "That was me."

"You fell from the ceiling?" Hermione asked. Harry was still silently staring at me.

"Unfortunately, yes, and no, I don't know why or how," I said before they could ask.

"How did you know that Ron swallowed the bezoar?" Hermione asked me, eyeing me little bit suspiciously.

I shrugged. "He said he was poisoned, and you mentioned the bezoar so I connected two and two. It isn't like you stuck it up his—"

"Okay," Hermione interrupted me before I could finish my sentence.

"So why did he have to swallow it?" I asked, even though I already knew the answer. Malfoy had given Slughorn the drink to give to Dumbledore, but Ron had ended up drinking the poison instead.

"Bad drink," Ron said, grimacing. "Thanks mate, for saving me," he told Harry.

"No problem," Harry said. He looked a little bit uncomfortable, maybe because the other two girls in the room appeared to be having a glaring contest or maybe because he didn't like it when people acknowledged his great-person-ness.

"So do you go here?" Hermione asked me, breaking her stare with Lavender. I shook my head.

"She might be a muggle," Ron cut in. "Maybe they'll obliviate her," he continued, apparently without a brain-mouth filter. I winced when he brought up the memory charm.

"Don't be insensitive, Ronald," Hermione said, glaring at him. "And anyhow, if she isn't a witch, how did she end up in Hogwarts? Experienced wizards and witches can't get in here without permission, let alone muggles."

I took a loud slurp of what was left in the cup of water Madam Pomfrey had brought me, to remind Hermione and Ron that I was in the room and could hear them talking about me. Lavender glanced at me.

"Well, I have to go study for the divination test, so goodbye, Harry, Rose," Lavender said, ignoring Hermione and Ron. It was times like these that I realized why I didn't have a boyfriend. I couldn't deal with someone annoying me all day, or breaking my heart. I couldn't imagine why Lavender would choose Ron Weasley for a relationship.

"Divination," Hermione muttered with a disapproving sniff.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I don't own any of this. It is J.K. Rowling's (besides the original bits)

A/N: I think I'm gonna pair Rose with Draco Malfoy, but that might change.

Chapter 3

The next two days were spent sleeping, eating, and trying to convince Madam Pomfrey to let me out of the hospital wing. I didn't know if it was because the teachers were afraid that I was going to blab about my muggle-ness to someone or if it was because they were genuinely careful about my "injured state," but Madam Pomfrey wouldn't let me walk through those hospital wing doors. I was starting to go crazy, alone in the large marble room. I'd been wearing the same clothes for two days, and the skirt was wrinkly. My feet were starting to hurt from pacing the hospital wing floors in my heels, and my hair was a mess. I'd refused the offered shower as a sign of resistance, but I was close to asking for one because my tight bun could only hold grease out for so long.

I'd come to the conclusion that I might as well push aside ideas of this place not being real, because 1) in the case that I was wrong and it _was_ real, I didn't want to make a fool of myself, and 2) who wouldn't want this to be real, besides being stuck in one room for days without much human interaction? (actually, besides that, the food was good and I was a fan of the book series).

Finally, on the evening of the second day of being in Hogwarts, Professor Dumbledore walked into the hospital room. His hair flowed a little bit behind him, along with his purplish-blue robes. His blackened, dead hand contrasted with his pastel outfit.

I had been sitting on the bed when he arrived, and I quickly stood up. I wobbled a little bit in my shoes, then pretended I hadn't, smoothing my skirt.

Dumbledore regarded me with unsettlingly twinkling eyes, as if I hadn't fallen from a ceiling or been stuck in a castle wing for the past few days. Finally after a few seconds of me shifting uncomfortably, he said, "Ms. Evans, I am afraid to say that we will have to remove your memory of this place."

What. The. Hell.

"What?" I asked, outraged.

"It's Ministry law, and you are a muggle. Unfortunately, we cannot allow you to leave here with memories of magic. Now, it's your choice about what you would like to remember in place of the last few days, but you aren't allowed to remember this school," Dumbledore said. My mouth was hanging open a bit.

"But I don't remember the rest of my life," I protested. "If you take my memories away, I won't have any memories at all."

"I'm sorry, Ms. Evans. I'll give you a memory about being in an accident that caused amnesia, but I can't do much else." Dumbledore drew his wand from his sleeve. Wait. He was going to erase my memory _right now?_ I thought I'd have a little while.

Dumbledore started to say " _Obli—"_

"No!" I exclaimed. I made a move as if to block the light with my hand. Suddenly, Dumbledore stopped talking and lowered his wand as a piercing sound rang through the hospital wing. I turned to find the windows shattered, glass shards making sharp, musical sounds as they crashed to the floor and hit the side of the castle on their way down to the ground outside. Dumbledore froze, staring at me. Had I done that?

"Hmmm," he said, regarding me with a somewhat calculating glint in his eyes. He looked at me over his half-moon glasses. If he could see without those, what was the point in wearing them, anyway? "As I thought," he said, "you're a witch." Wait, what?

"What do you mean I'm a witch?"

"I didn't do that, and I'm fairly sure that the glass did not shatter on its own. That leaves you, Miss Evans," he said. "It's really quite similar to how someone younger than eleven reacts," he continued. At my outraged look at the comparison, he added, "magically, of course. Your instincts caused your magic to… explode, in a way. Uncontrolled, of course, but definitely the magic of a witch."

"Huh," I said, not knowing what else to say. "Did you know this when you decided to obliviate me?"

Ol' Dumbledore had the decency to look a bit guilty. "Yes, I suspected." The skinny old twit.

"That's so not cool!" I spit out. "You were gonna actually erase my memory, if your little experiment didn't prove correct?" Albus Dumbledore just stood there, wand in hand, smirking an old man smirk. I groaned. He was annoying.

"I know you might be a little bit mad right now, Miss Evans, but I would like to suggest you attend our school here," Dumbledore said.

"And if I refuse?" I asked.

"Well, I will not, of course, keep you here against your will, but it seems a good solution. Do you have anywhere else to go?" He had a point of course, and it was irritating me.

"Would I be a first year here or something?" I asked. I didn't particularly want to be in classes with little eleven-year-olds when I was five years older than them.

"No, I do not think so. I think we could get you decently caught up with extra private classes," the headmaster said. "It would be difficult and it would take a lot of time investment on your part, but it is possible. As most things are, of course. You do not have to decide right now, but if you are interested in magic, it would be best to start as soon as possible."

"I'll do it," I said, surprisingly myself. I mean, I might be in a coma, somewhere in a hospital bed, but I might as well have a bit of fun while I was. And if I wasn't, and this was somehow real, then even better. Professor Dumbledore didn't look surprised. His facial expression barely changed, but the twinkle in his eyes grew.

"Well then, I'll show you to my office where you can be sorted," he said. He turned and started walking. I followed him, much to the protest of my aching feet.

As we walked out of the hospital wing doors, my breath was taken away by how real everything looked. The stone walls were rough and lit by sunlight coming from the large glass windows on the wall. The staircases were shifting ahead of us. The paintings on the walls were shifting and looking at me curiously. It was all so vivid, and in that moment I almost believed that I wasn't somewhere in a hospital bed, asleep.

I absorbed the different and new sights that I saw as we walked to the headmaster's office. A lot of the marble floor was clean, but occasionally I would see a chip that looked too smooth to be non-magical, or a bit where it had been stained purple or blue. The walls sometimes looked too glassy to be real, and sometimes looked like part of a museum exhibit about medieval architecture. None of the candles were lit, probably because the sun was out.

Finally, after a few minutes of huffing and puffing on my part, the professor of course being unaffected by the trip, we reached the large gargoyle statue. Its eyes followed me as we approached, causing shivers to run down my spine.

"Hello," Dumbledore greeted the statue jovially. When he said "gumdrops," the statue nodded its head and stepped aside to let us walk up the stairs to Professor Dumbledore's office. "Have you ever had gumdrops?" Dumbledore asked me. "They're quite good, you know."

"I don't recall," I said monotonously, and decided that I should probably start getting used to using that answer.

We reached his office door, and as we entered, I caught sight of Fawkes. The bird was small, so he must have just been reborn. Its big eyes, which happened to be looking at me, seemed too intelligent for such a young-looking bird. It was a little bit creepy.

"Take a seat," Dumbledore said, gesturing to a stool in the middle of his office, as if he had been expecting this outcome the entire time.

I slowly walked over to the stool, still soaking in the room. It was huge, with a red rug in the center, on top of which a large desk stood. A small cup of extravagant quills caught my attention, then the huge globe on the side of the room. As I sat down, crossing my legs, I caught a glimpse of the pensieve in the cabinet to my left. It was stone, and a glint of liquid shone before my view was obscured by a large, floppy hat that had most certainly seen better days. Its black fabric was peeling in a couple places, and on rips that apparently were not left to hang, there were black stitches. A mouth was dented into the hat, and two little indentations that I supposed were meant to be eyes. The tip of the hat twitched as Dumbledore brought it closer to my head. I winced to think of all the possible germs that could be inside of the hat.

"This hat will sort you into one of four houses, Miss Evans," Dumbledore said. "There is Gryffindor, for those who value bravery, Ravenclaw for those who value intelligence and knowledge, Hufflepuff, for those who value loyalty, and Slytherin, for those who value ambition and cunning." I knew this already, but I simply nodded as he placed the Sorting Hat on my head. I already knew which house I wanted to be in.

The moment the fabric touched my hair, I heard the hat's voice in my head.

 _Ah yes. A familiar face, or should I say head?_ If the hat was expecting me to laugh, it was sorely disappointed. _A bit sassy, are we? Well, so was the one you share a soul with. Now, to sort you,_ it said.

 _I want to be in Slytherin,_ I thought as loudly as I could. I'd decided it before arriving in this castle. All of the online quizzes I'd taken had told me that was where I belonged, and I knew why. I was ambitious, cunning, and selfish. And I accepted and valued that about myself.

 _Well you certainly know what you want,_ the hat said _,_ right before shouting "Gryffindor!"

What. The. Hell. I thought students were supposed to be able to pick my house! I'd clearly made my decision in my head, and the Sorting Hat had completely ignored it!

"Wait!" I said as Dumbledore pulled the hat off of my head. "That wasn't what I chose!"

"Well, Miss Evans, you clearly did something to suggest Gryffindor, because this hat hasn't been outright wrong for centuries," the headmaster said. He walked across the room to place the hat on a shelf as I sat there, my mouth hanging open. I definitely wasn't a brave person. Sure, sometimes I was daring, but that was usually for my own gain, not because I was looking out for others. "Now," Dumbledore continued matter-of-factly, "one of the Gryffindor prefects, Miss Granger, is here to show you to your room. I will contact you regarding your schedule and the extra lessons, but for now, please get some rest."

I wanted to scream that I'd gotten five days of rest, and that I didn't want to wait, but I stifled the urge, grinding my teeth. A knock at the door almost made me jump.

"Ah yes, that must be Miss Granger," Dumbledore said. The fact that he had already summoned her proved to me that he had known I would end up in Gryffindor. I sighed and would have stomped out of his office had it not been for my aching feet.

I opened the door and was met with the frizzy-haired girl I'd met in the hospital wing.

"Hello Rose," Hermione said. "Nice you see you again. I was told I'm to lead you to the Gryffindor dormitories?"

"Yeah," I muttered. "I guess so."

"Well, then, follow me," she said and began a steady stride down the stairs and out of Dumbledore's little section of the castle. For someone so short, she sure was quick. I had to hurry to catch up with her.

"Hold on," I said. I kneeled down to take my shoes off. I hadn't taken them off before because I wanted to spare Professor Dumbledore the sight of my somewhat gross feet. They had callouses and a few blisters on them from ballet. Tape was wrapped around my second toe. Hermione eyed my feet but didn't comment. When I finished, and held both shoes in my right hand, we continued on our way.


	4. Chapter 4

I don't own any of this. It belongs to J. K. Rowling (except for the original bits)

Chapter 4

The Gryffindor common room was much bigger than I thought it would be. In the movies, the room wasn't small, exactly, but it wasn't the expansive, furniture-filled room that I entered through the Fat Lady's painting. In fact, a lot of things differed from the movie. For example, Hermione didn't have the outright beauty that her actress had. Instead, it was a little bit more subtle, and hidden under lots of hair. Ron actually was portrayed more accurately, but Harry had sharper features and a more gangly build than in the movies.

I was kind of in shock from finding out that somehow I possessed magic, so I wasn't really in the mood to interact very much with the people around me. It appeared to mostly be fifth years and up in the common room, so they didn't pay much attention to me. I looked a little bit young, and I was dressed strangely, without shoes on, but apparently they figured I was some crazy third-year. A couple people spared me more than one glance, but most of them looked like they were busy, either playing games or doing homework. Hermione led me up to the sixth-year girls' dormitories and showed me a room. I was staying with her, Lavender, and Parvati, but neither was there. Hermione told me that a lot of people were enjoying the outdoors, because it was finally spring and the snow was melting.

"Your stuff is on the bed," Hermione said to me, gesturing to the four-poster. I raised an eyebrow as I caught sight of a new trunk on the mattress. I decided to wait until Hermione left to open it. I hadn't acquired it, so it must have been Dumbledore. I supposed that my story would stay the same with the students: I had no recollection of anything before falling from the Great Hall's ceiling. If anyone questioned me, I'd say that I'd been given veritaserum already.

"Do you want to go to the common room with me?" Hermione asked, "Because I'm going to go grab Harry and Ron and we're gonna go outside."

"No thanks," I said, not really paying attention to what she was saying. Hermione shrugged and left, gently closing the door on her way out.

The dormitory room held four beds, all four-posters and covered in red and gold. A round, red rug covered the center of the floor, and windows on the wall in front of me let sunlight in. A small chandelier-like light hung from the ceiling. It held about ten crooked candles, because apparently the wizarding world was above electricity.

I tossed my shoes down on the side of my bed and took a seat on the red duvet next to my new trunk. The mattress was, of course, extremely comfortable. For about a minute I just stared at the trunk, too afraid to open it up. What if Dumbledore knew I was lying and it was a portkey of some sort? Finally, after staring at it and not being able to resist my curiosity, I flicked the buckles on the front open and lifted the top of the trunk.

There were some clothes, books, and shoes inside. It appeared to have an undetectable extension charm on it, because there was no way the trunk could fit this much stuff if it wasn't altered by magic. I glanced down at my wrinkled outfit and winced at how bad I must look. As I changed into a pair of cropped chinos and a pale blue crew-neck t-shirt, I avoided thinking about my own magic. Instead, I wondered who had put together this collection of clothing. It might have been Dumbledore, which kind of freaked me out. How did these people know my shoe size and clothing size? The clothing wasn't _exactly_ to my tastes, but it would have to do. I'd showered this morning in the hospital wing, so I didn't have to shower again here. I grabbed a brush and tidied my hair. It was slightly frizzy, so I sighed and braided it. As I did my hair, a piece of paper between two shirts caught my eye. As I pulled it out, I realized that it was a letter, most likely from Dumbledore. I ripped open the envelope and saw the elegant cursive script.

 _Miss Evans,_

 _I have provided you with some essentials, but was unable to provide a wand, due to the fact that I cannot simply choose one for you—the wand chooses the wizard, of course. As you need one in order to study here, I thought it best that I have someone escort you to Diagon Alley for some supplies. Tomorrow morning at nine o'clock sharp, please meet Professor McGonagall in front of the Great Hall._

 _Sincerely,_

 _Professor Dumbledoore_

So I would be getting a wand. Great. As I thought about it, I realized that it probably would have been best for me to just run away, under the guise of a completely magic-less teenage girl. I believed that if time travel existed than any changes to the past weren't really changes, as they had already happened, but I hadn't really time traveled. It didn't matter if this was all in my head, but if it wasn't… I didn't want to get trapped in a magical world where Voldemort succeeded in his quest for more power.

I sat down on the bed once more and stared out of the window. As memories of the windows in the hospital exploding began to replay, I winced and tried to think of something else. Somehow, my mind wandered to my parents.

They must be worrying about me. If I was in a coma, stuck in my mind right now, were they at the side of my bed, telling me to wake up? I hoped that they weren't hurting too much. I might've been constantly annoyed with them, but I loved them. I rubbed at my temples, not sure whether to hope to wake up in a hospital room away from magic, or whether to hope to stay here forever. I had, like most kids, wished on more than one occasion for the Harry Potter world to be real. But it had just been a wish. Now, apparently, my brain was either holding it against me or the wish had come true. Either way, I had to face what was happening in this world.

So I had magic. So what? That wasn't that out of place here, right? I might as well take advantage of it while I could. I didn't have a wand, so I couldn't suddenly start producing a patronus, but there had been cases of wandless magic in the books, before a kid started Hogwarts.

I stared at a pillow at the head of the bed.

" _Wingardium Leviosa,"_ I said. Nothing happened, and I felt stupid. I wasn't super powerful or anything, so I shouldn't be surprised. "Ugh!" I groaned and my head back towards the head of the bed. And hit wood. As I winced and rubbed the back of my head, I saw my pillow, on the floor, two feet away from my bed. Weird. Maybe it was worked. Just as I was about to try again, this time telling myself that I wouldn't look away from the pillow, the door flew open and Lavender walked in.

She was holding what looked like a basket full of cosmetics and hair products, which in itself seemed odd, but what stood out the most were the leopard spots that decorated her face. She stopped abruptly when she saw me.

"I suppose that you're my new roommate now?" Lavender asked, as if this was something unfortunate but something expected.

"Yep," I said. "Why do you have leopard spots on your face?" I asked, cutting right to the chase. She sighed.

"Liana and I were trying to change the fabric of my book bag to leopard print, but it bounced off of the bag and landed on me. You wouldn't happen to know the counterspell would you?" She asked, looking at me hopefully. I put an apologetic look on my face, despite the fact that I found her situation amusing, and shook my head.

"Sorry, I'm a bit behind on coursework," I said. She groaned and set the basket down on top of a bed that I assumed was hers.

Lavender was pretty, with long, wavy, blonde hair and white teeth. I'd felt kind of sorry for her when I read the books, because let's be honest—it sucks having a boyfriend who is in love with another person (and trust me, I've been there).

"Why are you suddenly going here, anyway?" Lavender asked me as she started rummaging through the basket. I shrugged, even though she couldn't see me.

"I can't remember," I said. It was the easiest school to work with, because I didn't have to elaborately weave lies together. If I had no memories, there was no story for anyone to find untrue. "That's why I was in the hospital wing; I don't remember anything before falling from the ceiling."

"Hmm," Lavender said, pausing her furious rustling in favor of staring at me. I could tell she wanted to pry an answer out of me, but she must've believed me, because she turned away once more. I was tempted to see if I could get the pillow to move again, but I didn't want Lavender to witness my utter humiliation if I ended up just staring at it and looking like I had a bad case of constipation. Instead, I hopped off of my bed and heaved my trunk off of the mattress and onto the floor at the foot of my bed. It wasn't too heavy, probably the result of a spell, but it still made a loud thump that startled my new roommate. Next, I grabbed a random book on potions and proceeded to curl up underneath my new bedsheets on my stomach, the book positioned in front of my nose.

I heard Lavender mutter, "Great, another bookworm," under her breath by I wasn't in the mood for an argument so I let it slide. I wasn't an overtly studious person, but I'd retained A's throughout high school so far, thanks to over-lenient teachers and the occasional study-session with various crushes. I put a lot of value in academics because I wanted to be successful in life.

A few hours later, after Lavender had apparently been unable to find whatever she was looking for in that large basket and had left in a mood, Hermione walked in, looking deep in thought. She walked over to her bed and began rummaging around in the pile of books on top of it. I raised an eyebrow.

"What are you looking for?" I asked her. She jumped a bit at my voice, as if she had forgotten I existed.

"Nothing, nothing," she said unconvincingly. "Just a book." A book that was about horcruxes, perhaps? Or maybe she was looking for a book about the room of requirement an how she could help Harry foil Malfoy's plan.

"I could help you look," I offered. I couldn't help but want to be at least slightly involved in the trio's plans.

"No, I'll be fine," Hermione said, to my disappointment. "How are you going to catch up?" She asked me, changing the subjects unsubtly.

"I'm going to be privately tutored," I said. It sounded very mysterious, but I didn't know anything more than that.

"Oh, really? I didn't know that teachers did that here these days. I mean, they did that in nineteen-eighty-two when Calista Covershire missed a year because she was turned into a baby until they could fix her, but I don't know of any other instances," Hermione said.

"Well, I guess I'm a special instance. I somehow doubt there have been many other students in my position," I said, addressing both situations: either someone in a parallel universe (or a coma), and someone who fell from the ceiling with no memories.

Hermione caught sight of a book on her bed, one that I couldn't see the title of.

"Oh! Here it is! I knew I had it…" she muttered to herself as she stuffed it into her bookbag. Looking back up at me, I caught a glint of something slightly akin to suspicion in her eyes. "Do you want to go eat dinner with Harry and me? Ron will be there, but he isn't that hard to ignore with the right spells," she said. I wondered if she and Harry suspected that I wasn't who I said I was.

"Er, sure," I said. "Let me just find a pair of shoes." I rummaged around in my trunk before pulling a pair of ballet flats out.

"Where did all of that stuff come from, if you don't remember anything?" Hermione asked. She crossed her arms.

"I dunno. Professor Dumbledore offered it to me. Maybe Hogwarts just has extra clothes or something for special cases." Where had he gotten it from, anyway? I hoped it hadn't been magicked off of unsuspecting witches or muggles. I shrugged on some robes and followed Hermione out the door. I didn't have a better explanation for her as to why I was here, especially since I didn't think she'd believe me if I told her the truth.

We descended the stairs as I listened to the crackling of the fireplace in the common room. It somehow managed to be huge and cozy at the same time. Large windows let some of the evening light in, and the room's beauty almost made me happy to be in Gryffindor.

Harry and Ron met us at the exit, and politely greeted me as we left the common room. A lot of students seemed to be heading to dinner, so the awkward silence was confined only to the bubble of space around the four of us. Harry kept glancing at me curiously, and maybe a bit sadly, Ron was acting a bit depressed, maybe because Lavender had dumped him, and Hermione still had that suspicious glint in her eye.

"So," I said brightly, "what do you guys do for fun around here?"

Hermione shrugged and Harry and Ron rolled their eyes at her. "Study," they all said in unison. Hermione glared at the two boys.

"Well, if you wanted all O's, you would study too. It isn't my fault you're setting your standards at E's," she said with a sniff. I smirked. Someone was touchy about their grades.

"Incoming," Ron muttered to Harry and Hermione, "from the left."

I glanced to the left and saw a tall, blond boy approaching. Two large boys flanked him. All three had identical sneers on their faces.

"Hello, _Malfoy_ ," Harry said. He looked stiff and maybe even… afraid? Maybe he was afraid because of what Malfoy had done to Ron.

"Potter," Malfoy greeted. "I see your weasel is out of the hospital wing. Shame. I wish that trash would stay where it belongs." I rolled my eyes at this. In my opinion, that was akin to saying that I was a nobody because I had a freckle on the back of my neck. In other words, it didn't matter.

"Shut up for one, Malfoy," Ron said with a glare.

"And who is this?" the blond boy asked, his eyes falling on me. "Has Weasley had another sibling? No, your clothes aren't second-hand. Started adopting fourth years, have we, Potter?"

"I'm not a fourth year, Malfoy," I said haughtily. "And even if I was, I'd still be better than you and your goons combined."

One of the goons, maybe Crabbe, brandished his wand and shot some red sparks at me. They bounced off of my shoes and I smirked. How very talented. I would have made fun of him, but I was reminded of the fact that I probably couldn't do much more than that.

Just then, Snape strode over with a flourish of his black robes and looked appropriately disapproving.

"Potter! I see you've taken to pigheaded dueling in the hallways again. Get to dinner you three, before I give you enough detention to keep you from every eating dinner again. You too, Evans." He said my name like it caused him physical pain, wincing slightly and lowering his voice. I remembered his past with Harry's mum.

"Malfoy, a word, please," Snape said. He turned away and I scampered off with Harry, Ron, and Hermione. Harry and Ron didn't seem to have noticed the way Snape acted, but Hermione was regarding me curiously.

"What's for dinner?" I asked, even though I knew.

"Anything you want, really," Ron said. He got a dreamy look on his face. "Chicken, turkey, ham, potatoes, pudding." Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Sorry, Rose. Ron only thinks with his stomach," she said. As we walked down the hallway, I noticed that Ron kept glancing at Hermione and Hermione at him. I looked at Harry and found him also observing the tension between them. He shot me a look and I nodded slightly. We shared a smile.

The hall was just as expansive as I remembered it. Four large tales were lined up, and students at them chatted and ate. The sky above us was colored purple, blue, and black, and bright stars twinkled down at us. My mouth might've dropped open. Everything in the castle was just so magical. I pictured a petite girl falling from the sky above my head, and hitting the marble floor. The trio guided me to a spot at the table, and we gained a few stares. I didn't know if it was because of my plummet a few days ago, or if it was because of the people I was currently in the company of.

When we were seated at the table, and our plates filled with various foods, Hermione pulled a book out and began to read it, occasionally sipping her pumpkin juice. The book was labeled _Princes Through the Ages: A Comprehensive Guide the Monarchs You Know and the Royalty You Don't._

"Whatcha reading there, Hermione?" I asked her.

"Just a book about royalty. You can never know about wizarding and muggle royalty, you know," she said.

"She's looking for someone called the 'Half-Blood Prince,' " Ron interjected, earning an outraged look from Hermione. "You haven't heard of him, have you?" He asked me.

"Sorry, but no," I lied. "I have no idea who that is." I looked up at the higher table at the front of the room, perpendicular to the house tables, and caught Severus Snape's eye. He looked away first.


End file.
